


A Window In Time

by amandasarmada



Series: The Space Between [1]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:45:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2558465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandasarmada/pseuds/amandasarmada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is barely anything more than drabble, sorry.  Takes place during Internal Displacement, gives insight into Danny and C.J.'s minds through a stream-of-consciousness style of missing scenes.  Can act as a companion/prologue to my "What Else?" series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Window In Time

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a screencap I saw of Danny meeting C.J. at their first date where they both looked really happy, and it gave me feelings and I wrote about it.

**October 2006**

Danny Concannon was sitting in his office on the third floor of The Washington Post building, his chair turned sideways so he could see the view of D.C. from the window. He gazed down at the street below, his mind dancing around thoughts and memories, as he contemplated whether today would be the day he worked up the nerve to do it.

It was early October, and the leaves were turning red and gold, the gusts of wind blowing them this way and that. He allowed himself to imagine that he could see C.J. walking down below, and what she might look like. Her hair was longer now, he knew, and darker, and he pictured the wind blowing it across her beautiful battle-worn face. It had been so long since he'd seen her in person. He'd worked so hard to keep his distance, deep-down planning for this moment. This was it. Zero hour.

It was time.

He had waited, and that was fine. He understood. And he cared about her - really, genuinely cared, and her job was important, not only to her happiness, but to the country. The world was a better place because C.J. Cregg was in the White House. He was a big enough man to accept that, and watching her rise through the ranks from afar filled him with a sense of pride and awe that only the passion and determination of the woman he had fallen in love with could instill in him.

And so he'd waited.

But this was her last year, and he had a window; a window to try and make something happen. And as embarrassing and pitiful as it was, he'd never been able to keep her out of his thoughts for long, even when he'd distanced himself as far as possible from her. He'd crossed the globe for god's sake, but she was like a magnet, and he was drawn to her like moth to flame. He'd watch her on TV, bringing dissenters to their knees with her strong voice and mastery of facts, and the way her face lit up with emotion when she spoke about something she truly cared about. She'd made him laugh and made him think, and for eight years he hadn't been able to look at another woman quite like how he looked at C.J. Cregg. He was enamored by her, utterly, and this was his one chance – his last chance, to see if what they had whenever they were near each other could possibly grow into something real. He had a shot, and he had to make it mean something – let her know his intentions before she committed herself to something (or god forbid, someone) and flew away from him forever.

His heartbeat was a cacophony of nerves and anticipation, and he took a sip of scotch – not something he usually kept in the office – gathering his courage, trying to put himself at ease. It was amazing how his entire future was balanced on a phone call. He felt a thrill of excitement in spite of himself. He was going to talk to her again.

There was nothing left except to just _do_ it.

* * *

“Danny Concannon's on line 1 for you,” Margaret's nervous deadpan came through on the intercom. C.J.'s head was bent, focused on reading over the 30-page “briefing” that had been set on her desk five minutes before.

“C.J.?”

C.J.'s head shot up. She reached for the intercom button. “What?”

“Danny Concannon.”

C.J.'s heart skipped a beat.

“What?” she repeated. C.J. swallowed, the old nervousness creeping back into her voice.

“Danny Concannon. From The Post? He's holding on line 1 for you.”

C.J. stared at the intercom, startled. She grabbed the phone.

“C.J. Cregg.”

“Hey.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

C.J. tapped her foot nervously, willing herself not to react to that voice in her ear. “What can I do for you, Danny?”

“How ya been?”

“What?” Was this a _social_ call? She didn't have time for social calls with Danny Concannon. She didn't have time for social calls with _anyone_ , but especially not with _that_ man.

And at the thought, an image of him rose uninvited into her mind, and she forced her mind back on task. _Get rid of him_. As quickly as possible, preferably.

“I saw you on C-Span last week.” Danny's voice was light, the sound of his reassuring rasp sharpening the image of his face in her mind's eye. “You blew 'em out of the park.”

“Uh – thank you.” C.J. looked around her office. “So what can I do for you, Danny?” she repeated.

Danny plunged on, biting down his nerves. If she wanted to cut to the chase, he could do that.

“I was wondering if I could take you to dinner tomorrow night,” he said breezily. A sentence he'd uttered to her a thousand times.

Back in her office, C.J. felt a wave of relief. He wanted to talk to her about a story. Fine.

“Ah, I'll have to check with Margaret.”

“Already ran it by her,” Danny said smoothly. “You could make it to a late dinner.” He paused, suddenly awkward. “...Of course, if you're not interested-”

“No, that's fine,” C.J. said absentmindedly, the implication of his words not registering.

She wrote down a time and the name of a restaurant, shielded by her business-as-usual mode.

“...I can't wait to see you again.”

His vulnerability startled her, as it always did. He was always the charmer. C.J. allowed herself a small smile, a shiver rushing through her.

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat, her breath eluding her a little. “Sure, Danny, you bet. I'll see you tomorrow night.”

“See ya,” he said softly, and her heart skipped a beat. She set the phone down gingerly, her smile growing.

She was going to see Danny Concannon again.

* * *

“ _I wanted to see you.”_

“ _...That's_ it _?”_

…

“ _Oh shoot, I ruined the dinner.”_

…

“ _Can I see you again?_

* * *

C.J. had a way of growing more beautiful as time went on, Danny reflected late the next night, another glass of scotch clutched in his hand as he sat on his couch, still in his suit.

He'd known, of course he'd known, that he still had feelings for her. Actually seeing her, though...everything about her seemed to get under his skin, burning itself into his brain. Her easy smile. How her voice always seemed to sound sweet and caring but strong at the same time. Her huge blue-gray eyes, sprinkled with flecks of green. The smell of her perfume.

And when they started talking...no one could throw him like she could. She could go from calm and comforting to pure fire in a heartbeat. She was fierce, and he loved her for it.

He'd known going into it that these were going to be high stakes. But now, seeing what this job was doing to her...he had to do something big, show her that he wasn't just looking for a fling, or a even a fun lighthearted date out with an old friend. There couldn't be any question in her mind that he was in this for real. He was going to have to put himself completely out there, and it shook him. He reflected sardonically that it was going to happen at one point or another, and better he ripped the band-aid off quickly, and without fuss.

Danny reached for a pen and his notepad, settling down into the couch to think.

* * *

Following her dinner fiasco with Danny, C.J.'s life continued as it always did – relentless and unmerciful. As the next day ran on, C.J.'s mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Doug Westin's indiscretion, anger and disgust and anxiety and weariness bubbling up through her like a stew.

It was another exhausting day. One thing after another, and nothing seemed to get done with nearly the force she had intended. She'd barely had a minute to herself, and only several hours after her phone conversation with Danny did she have time to lay in bed and reflect on what was going on with him.

It _had_ been a social call. And their dinner the next night wasn't a follow-up for a story, it was a date.

She had a date with Danny Concannon.

She was startled at the intensity of the feelings she still had for him. She still thought about him, more often than she'd like to admit, but he was like a self-indulgent fantasy, an eternal comfort she could revert to when she was overwhelmed by hundred-hour work weeks. It was infatuation, whatever deeper friendship she had harbored for him before.

And yet...

She groaned, covering her face with a pillow. She did not have time to have Feelings for Danny Concannon right now. She didn't have time to have that level of Feelings at all, and she wouldn't have known what to do with them even if she did.

Exhausted, she rolled over, pushing any deeper thoughts out of her head until the morning.

She went to sleep with a nervous smile playing on her face.

* * *

The next morning C.J. woke up early, lying curled up in her queen-sized bed as she stumbled into consciousness. The details of last night's dream were already growing dim in her waking mind, but she had a sinking suspicion they'd featured someone with strawberry-blond hair and piercing eyes and a penchant for making her laugh inappropriately.

She sighed, deciding to skip her morning run and hop in the shower early. She was going to give herself 20 minutes to just think about this.

She padded into the bathroom, a dark red robe wrapped snugly around her. She shred her nightclothes drowsily, stifling a yawn as she turned on the water.

The stream hit her like a whip as she stepped into it, enjoying the vague burning of the hot water on her face.

C.J. groaned quietly to herself, reflecting on her behavior from two nights ago. Part of her had known, really, the moment she'd seen Danny and greeted him in the restaurant, that he'd intended it to be a date. And it had scared her, because Danny was dangerous. She had a job to do, and whenever he was around she found her mind wandering at odd moments, remembering a gaze he'd placed on her earlier, or the smell of him when they walked next to each other in the halls. She had to be unshakeable right now, and the only way she'd seen to do that was to pretend that it emphatically was _not_ a date.

But she'd acted like a jackass. She sighed, resigning herself to it. There was nothing to do but apologize, and she would.

She thought about what it would mean, having a date with Danny that night.

She was excited. She couldn't pretend not to be.

Things were different now. Danny wasn't part of the White House press corp anymore, and she wasn't the Press Secretary. And her future was wide open. She didn't have a clue what she'd be doing after she left the White House. Danny was obviously still interested, very interested, to have called her and pursued her like he did. Just seeing him again was enough to throw her off her game, though. She needed to be wary of that.

But maybe, just _maybe_ , after the Inauguration, she could finally do it – reward herself for 8 years of keeping her nose to the grindstone, diligently keeping her distance from the only person that could still make her blither like an idiot.

She thought about the way his face had lit up when he'd seen her, and the rush of warmth that had spread through her body.

C.J. allowed herself an ounce of hope, as she deliberated internally on which pantsuit might look nicest on her. The powder blue would have been ideal, of course, but it was a little early in the relationship to start repeating outfits. Maybe the dark blue blouse, with a charcoal blazer-

She stopped, the significance of her choice of words hitting her.

_The relationship._

She and Danny might have a relationship.

She would have to be careful – _very_ careful – with how quickly she proceeded with this, but the path before them was clearer and closer than it had ever been. The thought that she might not only be seeing him, but _touching_ him, presumably in new and exciting places, in the not-too-distant future.

C.J. took a deep breath, burying her face under the burning water.

_Maybe._


End file.
